The Spring of Summer
by NessieGG
Summary: SaitouTokio. 2 parts. Near the war's end, Saitou meets a unique servant girl. 'Where do you come from that the sakura can still be scented long after spring has gone'
1. Gold In Her Hair

**A/N**: It's been a while since I've put out anything for the Rurouni Kenshin fandom (although I do have the Kenshin x Kaoru 30Kisses claim at Livejournal, so you may see some KK drabbles from me soon).

I've always wanted to try my hand at the Saitou/Tokio story, and though I know it is overdone, I hope you will read it and let me know what you think. Feedback is _always _appreciated.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin; it belongs to its respective companies, and I am making no profit from this story.

**Note**: I have used some Japanese words in this story that are not commonly known so that the story will flow better. There are also names from history dropped into the story. Each name/word is marked with numbers and have translations at the end of the story. Also, this story shall be a two-parter.

**The Spring of Summer**

Part One: _Gold In Her Hair_

By Nessie

Much like sake generously poured, Kyoto was always filled to the brim with life – even when lives were taken in its streets. Though mothers shut in their children after the daylight hours, the quiet of the city coursed with energy and sometimes literally bubbled with the blood of men.

In the eyes of the Shinsengumi, even a place of countless deaths was still a place of goodness. Kyoto may as well have been considered hallowed ground for the large amount of respect it was given. Souls came and went each day in this city like winter turned to spring each year.

Tonight there was no killing, or at least very little. It was not possible, after all, to go a whole night without death during a war. But the hate and the evil had ebbed for tonight, and Saito could not say why. Some warriors in the Shinsengumi – Okita Souji for instance – regarded this dark era of theirs with an aesthetic sense. Okita liked to compare men to stars; always burning but constantly dimming.

Saitou Hajime disagreed. There was nothing beautiful about their era. When blood poured down even more than rain, to accept the world as something to be admired was nothing more than denial. As for men, Okita was mistaken there as well. Men were incapable of being constant. Too often their loyalties fell to be replaced by fear. Try as they might, even stars were not immortal. Surely Okita, of all people, had begun to realize that. Or perhaps the naivety that he had kept for nearly ten years now stopped him from having hardly any realism about life.

Sharing Okita's age of twenty, Saitou's thoughts were well beyond his time. His frame of mind would depress any optimist, but it was perfect for the samurai leader of the Shinsengumi's Third Division. For if he was going to survive challenging the Ishin-Shishi for the sake of the Shogunate, he would need a pessimistic outlook on life. Defying tradition, as the Shinsengumi did, meant two things: glory or death. Very few men received the first. Very lucky men received both. All men received the second.

"And what are you thinking of so seriously?"

Saitou kept walking with his unit, but he acknowledged Okita with a small glance from his golden eyes. "Nothing," he replied tersely.

"Nothing?" The young leader of the First Division smiled widely. "On a night so rare? We get to relax tonight and yet you say you think of nothing." He laughed cheerily. "You are a liar, Saitou-kun."

"I concern myself with myself," the taller man said at length. "Perhaps you should do the same."

"How cold," remarked Okita. "Unfortunately, I'm not allowed the leisure. I came to tell you that I have decided that we shall stay in the Sumiya Inn for the next few days."

Saitou straightened his broad shoulders. "I heard we would be moving into Aizu before long."

"Kashitaro-sama (1) believes the Aizu Clan is not so in need of protection that three whole units should be there. Nagakura-kun (2) is taking care of them presently, and the Second Division is good enough for now. Besides," murmured Okita, "there is a more pressing matter just starting to need our attention."

His dismal tone interested Saitou. "Such as?" But Saitou did not get an answer because Okita suddenly halted. Saitou did the same, and the two squads that followed them ceased walking.

"Here we are, Saitou-kun." Okita's voice was merry again as he looked up at a two-story ryokan (3). "Let us rest and eat. This day has been long, and we need to take care of ourselves." Despite his easy-going words, a sudden paleness came over him, and a coughing fit overwhelmed him. He clutched his hand to his mouth, and Saitou could see thin lines of blood being caught in his palm. It was a sad thing to see Okita Souji suffer. The strength he had inside him was shamed in the face of his illness. "I promise," he said with ragged breath after it had passed, "to tell you more later."

Not wishing to disagree with him while the perspiration of his pain still gleamed upon his skin, Saitou nodded. "Very well." He promptly led his men into the ryokan and gave them his permission to do as they wished. Though there were sure to be many female servants working in this ryokan, Saitou's men were much like him – low-key and detached. Unlike him, however, they were quite content to forget about the war, if only for tonight.

When the ryokan's okami (4) approached him and bowed her gray head, Saitou hid the hilt of his katana with the wide gape of his sleeve. He did not do this to keep her from alarm – he cared nothing for this old woman with her graying hair and open palm – but it was less annoying when they were not thought of as simple murderers. Seeing his sword might have made her frightened of him.

"Saitou-sama," the aging woman said warmly, "I have prepared private dining quarters so that you and Okita-sama may talk. If you will follow me."

He went with her to a back room on the ground floor. It was a small and seemingly new room. Since the hotel was quite old, Saitou assumed that the place was just not often used.

"Okita-sama will arrive shortly. I will have sake brought in while you wait," the okami told him as she kneeled and slid the door shut behind her, leaving him alone.

Saitou seated himself on a floor cushion behind a low table, crossing his legs in front of him. He felt tired in body alone, and though sleep would soon be needed, his mind was charged with an unusual energy. It was this alertness that made him such a formidable opponent; however, it did him no good if his physical and mental self were not in accord.

Shutting his eyes, he performed a personal analysis of himself and found nearly every muscle lined with tension. His head throbbed from the tightness of his high ponytail, and his eyes were too happy to be closed after so many sleepless nights. Saitou took a deep breath – he was letting himself weaken.

"Pour him sake first. Stay until his partner comes, and then fetch their food. I daresay you know the rest?"

The scratchy voice of the okami broke Saitou off from his thoughts, and his eyes opened once more. The rice paper door featured two silhouettes.

The reply that came was short, obedient, and softly-spoken. "Yes, ma'am." That voice was like a bell tinkling in the wind compared to that of her harsh employer's.

"Girls who do not perform their tasks as women should are thrown out from under roofs and onto the streets. And these are troubling times to be on the streets. Am I clear?" Saitou thought that the old okami's warm façade was badly maintained. No one who saw yen pass into their hand as she did was completely kind.

There was no argument from the other, nor was there even any defense. There was only another gentle "Yes, ma'am," and one of them walked away. Judging by the weight of the footfalls, Saitou guessed it was the old woman.

He was correct, for in time the rice paper door slid back. If he had considered what the servant might look like before she entered, it was not this. A young woman was revealed, but she was not so young that she was outside of Saitou's generation. He estimated her age to be eighteen. She was of medium height, and because Saitou was so tall and because she angled her head so far toward her feet, he was not allowed a good view of her face. He did see the top of her head as she set down a tray to close the door. When she bowed, he noticed that, while the black of her hair was as dark as that of any other Japanese woman's, there were streaks of gold from the sun. They were thin streaks, only a few strands were light, and they were subtle even though they were distinguishing. Saitou almost wished she would not straighten from her bow so that he might examine her hair further.

She said nothing to him as she took up her glossed tray again. She rose gracefully and walked with her face always lowered in respect. Or it might have been shyness and fear, Saitou estimated. Though she didn't appear incredibly young, she was still quite new.

As she kneeled on the other side of his small table, Saitou finally had a view of her face. While she focused on setting his table with a shining cup and sake bottle, he had time to notice that she was like porcelain, white as rice, and there was a delicate point to her chin. The lean slope of her nose suggested nobility, but that would have been impossible for a simple inn servant. Thick black lashes grazed her cheeks, and she always watched her hands, which were steady and quick and she poured sake for him.

Once his cup was filled, she moved off, sitting modestly against the wall with her hands clasped on her thighs and her head bowed. Saitou said nothing to her.

Yet, interestingly enough, he found himself watching her as he sipped his rice wine. She wore a kimono of deep greens and blues that shimmered with its patterns of swirls that were meant to depict sea waves. It would have been an expensive garment, and he wondered where a servant might have procured such a fine thing.

"How is your sake?"

Saitou's eyebrows rose slightly. She sat so motionlessly and with so much silence that if he had not been looking at her, he would not have known where the voice had come from.

Though he might have brushed off the question with a simple "It's fine" and then returned to his preferred state of speechlessness, Saitou lowered his cup and murmured, "Well enough for one as I." It seemed like a modest statement, but Saitou was only being honest. As far as he was concerned, samurai did not need their drink to taste good as long as it quenched their thirst.

The servant's reply was no louder than his own. "Something troubles you?"

"No. I am a Wolf of Mibu." Saitou took a drink, held it in his mouth briefly, then swallowed hard. "I trouble others."

She nodded acknowledgement. "Excuse me," she said, although she had not overstepped any boundaries.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, which meant the subject was dropped. Saitou held out his cup so she could pour him more sake.

In that moment the door slid open again, and Okita entered. He laughed when he saw his comrade. "Saitou Hajime, reaching out to a woman? I thought I'd never see the day." With a chuckle for his own little joke, he walked in and saw the woman more closely. "Servant, bring food! This man is starved to unusual actions!" She rose gracefully and bowed. When she passed him, he turned and called, "Servant, come back again." Okita smiled and turned her face upward with a hand on her chin. Saitou looked away, not wishing to witness any evaluation Okita might perform.

"Ah! What startling eyes!"

Saitou did look at that. Even he was surprised by the odd blend of blue and purple in the girl's eyes, enhanced to brightness by cool hues of her kimono. The girl, however, did not use those eyes on either of them; she kept them turned to the side of Okita.

"Now where," Okita asked with amused curiosity, "does one obtain eyes so rare?"

The girl did not respond at first. Very quietly, with tones so soft even Okita had to strain to hear her, she said: "I have always trusted that they come from my grandfather."

Okita blinked for a second, and then apparently decided her statement was hilarious. Releasing her, he laughed loudly. "I trust this as well, girl! Oh, off with you before I start up." Indeed, he did cough a bit as she left the room to bring their dinner. Saitou began to rise, but Okita held out a hand and kept him in place with the gesture. "It's only an annoyance. There, it's gone." Keeping his smile in place, he joined Saitou at the small table to his right. "Comfortable, Saitou-kun?"

"Restless." Since the girl was not there, Saitou himself poured Okita's sake.

"You would say that." Okita drank and sighed a little as the dryness was relieved from his throat. "How odd it is to think that five years have passed since the night at the Ikedaya. I often feel so many have altered their ways. But Saitou-kun will always be Saitou-kun. He and his Aku Soku Zan."

Saitou laid his palms flat on the table. "What is your news, Okita?"

"So impatient!" But he finished his cup and sobered. "Very well. The times are speeding. This war will not last much longer."

"We have not lost yet."

"No. However…" Okita stared into Saitou with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "The Battousai has returned to Kyoto."

"The hitokiri?"

"Choshu's most valuable asset. If the Ishin-Shishi has any hope of restoring the Empire, he is it." Okita accepted more sake, but his cup sat unused. "He is a threat, Saitou-kun."

"I've not yet met him," Saitou admitted.

"You will. He tries to stay quiet, but he's too recognizable. Bright red hair and a new scar shaped like a cross on his left cheek. When I met him two years ago, I couldn't even touch him. It must have been a strong one that made that scar."

"Hm." Saitou had heard the rumors of the hitokiri known as Battousai. It was said that nearly all of the Shogunate leaders that had thus far been assassinated had died on the edge of his sword. "We have been in Kyoto for days now. Where has he been?"

"Quite possibly, he's just returned. He has been gone from Kyoto for over a year, laying low or so they say." Okita's weakness for gossip had him grinning. "Rumor has it he's twice as good now."

Saitou didn't react to this except to ask, "When do you think would be the best time to fight him?"

"Saitou-kun, with him, there us no such time as the best." Okita shook his head, and his ponytail loosened a little so that stray strands fell in his face and made him look thirty instead of twenty. If Saitou Hajime was tired, then Okita Souji was exhausted. "I mastered kempo while very young, and yet when I faced his Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, I felt like I'd never held a sword in my _life_. He cut me that quickly."

Saitou's eyes narrowed at the thought. "But you are stronger now."

A soft chuckle emitted from the smaller man's sallow face. "Yes and no. Ah," he said as the girl with indigo eyes returned. "Here is our meal. _This_ will do me good."

Saitou allowed Okita to change the subject while they ate. The return of the servant girl had caught his attention over even thoughts of the Battousai. Watching her move so carefully had him thinking that he'd seen her before.

He ignored it, and her. He was not in Kyoto to be attentive to women. Saitou was here to kill. When he ate, he ate quickly and without expression. He reminded himself that this food was for fueling the work of a murderer.

"Oh, very good," complimented Okita when the meal was finished. "And now, full as I am, I think I'll go to bed. Saitou-kun, you should relax, have a bath…" A knowing grin came over his face. "And then have this girl serve you."

Saitou's golden eyes hardened so that they were like two coins that glared at the other Shinsengumi captain. "What?"

"I have rented this girl for you." Okita gestured to her, and she bowed. "The company of a woman – I can think of no one else who needs it more. Good night, Saitou-_sama_."

Okita's laugh, with all of its teasing, was heard clearly as she left them together. It faded down the hall and up the stairs. Saitou studied the girl before setting down his sake cup. Normally, when he made the effort to evaluate the mentality of a person, Saitou did so with ease. In the case of this girl, the Third Division's captain had difficulty getting past the unusual colors of her eyes to the thoughts beyond. Unsettled, he turned his gaze away from her.

"How are the baths here?" he inquired briskly.

She rose from her demure position and walked toward the door to open it for him. "Decent."

He found he was pleased with the honesty of her answer; she did not try to glorify the facilities. "Very well." He never required anything more than decent, anyway. Getting up, he followed her down a long corridor that led to a narrow wooden staircase. She was not slow on the steps but neither was she clumsy. Somehow, she had grown accustomed to two-story houses. Had she worked here long? Saitou let the wondering go as she brought him to a room with a freshly-cleaned futon and a small desk and table. He entered the room in front of her, and she followed him without a noise.

The girl seemed to be waiting for him to do something, and Saitou realized that she expected him to leave his sword in the room. "I do not part with my blade," he told her tersely.

Her eyes widened just slightly, as though she feared making a mistake. Bowing low at the waist, she whispered another quiet "Excuse me" before taking from the futon a towel and stepping out of the room. Saitou followed her into the hall again, down the stairs, and across the garden in the back of the ryokan. There was a small bathhouse, well lit and quite clean, waiting for him. The girl handed him the towel.

"For your use," she explained. "Please take your time to enjoy."

He made a grunt of response and left her kneeling in the doorway. Entering the bathhouse, he saw he was alone, which was how Saitou liked it at any rate.

The bath had been filled with fresh water, and the fire that heated it outside must have been healthy, for the water steamed invitingly. Saitou stripped quickly and submerged his whole body from toes to neck in one, fast motion. There was an initial sting from the hotness of the water, particularly where he had been scarred, but it passed quickly. After a slow exhale he was able to unclench his muscles. The aches in his limbs were soothed by the water, and Saitou rested his head against the side of the tub.

When he shut his eyes, he had expected to see the usual visions: blood gushing from bodies like the spray of sea foam, the soulless eyes of men he'd killed, the hating looks of women, children's grief-stricken faces. He had grown accustomed to those horrors, and they rarely bothered him anymore. But he saw none of those things in his mind right now.

He saw purple and blue, merged together like the color of the sky when it was just after sunset and right before nightfall. The image expanded to the colors becoming two eyes, framed by a delicate face. Caught off-guard, Saitou's eyes opened quickly. In the next moment, those eyes narrowed.

There was no reason for him to be picturing the servant girl standing outside, whether it was consciously or subconsciously. He had first seen her less than two hours ago, which was not a sufficient amount of time for a man to start wondering about a woman.

But Saitou did start to wonder. Part of him kept thinking that he had in fact seen this same woman before, but placing her was a hardship. He felt uncertain, however, because he was fairly sure that he would not forget such strange eyes. Then again, people had said the same about his own eyes.

Not too much later, he stepped out of the tub and quickly toweled himself dry. He was about to reach for his gi when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Saitou-sama?"

It was the servant girl that Okita had "rented" for him. Walking over with the towel in one hand, he replied gruffly. "What is it?"

"I have brought you a yukata for your use."

She had hardly finished the sentence before he had slid the door open a bit and held out a hand. The girl saw his naked chest (and then she didn't dare move her eyes for risk of seeing other things), and she flushed so quickly that streaks of pink stretched from her nose to her ears. "F-for your use," she repeated, holding out the yukata.

Saitou took the garment from her and noticed that her hands were trembling. Saying nothing, he shut the door again and thought he might have heard the girl sigh in relief. An unexpected smirk came to his lips. That blush had been the liveliest thing about her all evening. At least she had emotions.

After dressing and gathering his belongings, he went out to find the girl bowing with her forehead almost touching the back of her hands. Saitou was surprised by the bow. "What are you doing?" he demanded. The question came out sharply.

"My apologies!" She sounded nearly desperate, but Saitou couldn't be sure since her voice was directed at the ground beneath his feet.

He studied her wordlessly for several moments, during which time she never moved an inch from her subservient position, and then he sighed a bit himself. "You are too worried." Reaching down, he gripped her by the elbow and pulled her to her feet with all the effort it took to pick up a feather. "You have done no wrong by me and have been most helpful," he told her firmly. "Tell your mistress I said so."

Though this Wolf of Mibu knew little about human comfort, he had thought that his words would reassure her. Instead he saw with the dim light the moon provided that tears had welled in her eyes and turned them to liquid. "What?" he snapped.

She shook her head fervently. "It is nothing. But your kindness is—"

Saitou's jaw firmed. He had done nothing particularly goodhearted, as far as he knew, and this girl was crying over it. "Don't think of me as kind, girl. If I am anything, it is not that."

The whole situation seemed greatly familiar to Saitou, but he could not figure out why. He had not been in Kyoto since just after the Ikedaya Affair, and for the last four years the first three divisions of the Shinsengumi had been assigned to the protection of the Aizu Clan. Only recently had Okita and Saitou been relocated to Kyoto, and while it made sense for the Gatotsu user to have never laid eyes upon this servant girl, he was still swamped by feelings of a past encounter with her.

"Saitou-sama?"

Thoughts zooming back to the present, Saitou saw that at some point he had begun to follow the girl back to his room they now stood before the door. The servant was bowing slightly, which meant that he had the priority of entering, and he did so quickly to make up for his uncharacteristic lack of attentiveness.

"There's no need to address me so formally. 'San' will work fine." He sounded particularly gruff as he ordered this, and she mumbled one of her "excuse me's" with extra softness. Saitou expected her to shut the door and leave him for the evening, but when the door did shut, he turned to see her standing in his room no more than a few feet away. Puzzled, he glanced around and noticed that his futon was especially wide and that it was graced by two pillows instead of one.

When he looked back at her, it was not with surprise but with consideration. "How much extra did Okita pay your manager for your service?"

She clasped her hands in front of her and lowered her head. "I was not told."

He found it strange how lifeless she was in reaction to her duty. "What is your name?"

Her eyes were wide and innocent as she started and met him gaze for gaze for the first time since the Shinsengumi had come to the Sumiya Inn. Those outstanding eyes in addition to the golden strands of her hair made her look exotic in the lantern light of the room. "Tokio," she answered after several moments of silence.

Saitou realized as he had not before that it was not with shyness that she spoke. There was nothing timid about this young woman; but she was reserved, like him, and prone to softness. She possessed a gentle air that he had not been able to recognize after being drenched in blood for so long. When he repeated her name, it was with unprecedented respect. "Tokio."

"Yes?"

"I wish to sleep," he told her firmly. Though she appeared doubtful of him at first, he went on. "Have you no room of your own?"

Tokio shook her head, and the gold in her hair rippled. "It was expected that I would be sleeping here. My bed was given to a newer servant."

Honesty fueled that response, the Third Division captain noted. Had he not posed a question and simply said, "Go to your own room for the night," he suspected that she would have left him to go sleep in the garden or some other such unfit place. Nodding, he turned away from her and pulled down the comforter of his futon.

"Very well," he finally said. "You will sleep next to me. But do not touch me, for I am a light sleeper and may kill you in the night."

Whether he had been joking or not (and it truthfully was a mystery to her), Tokio took him seriously. After shuttering the lanterns, she reached up and removed the chopsticks that bound her hair on top of her head. Slivers of moonlights that flowed in through the blinded window washed over her and turned the unique strands of her hair to silver. She lay down beside him on the futon without a word. Tokio was especially careful to avoid touching his katana, which was between them. Saitou was closest to the wall, where he preferred to be in tight sleeping arrangements, but she took up very little room. Indeed, she was so motionless and small in the dark that he may have been able to forget her presence altogether except that—

"You have a scent of sakura (5) on you." The statement was spoken in a monotone, but Saitou involuntarily took a deeper breath as he closed his eyes in preparation to sleep.

After nearly a full minute of silence, she responded carefully. "The fragrance is made for good money at my home. It comforts me to wear it."

"The summer is nearly ended," he murmured, his voice beginning to sound far away as unconsciousness loomed near. In his state, curiosity was unusually great in his mind. "Where do you come from that the sakura can still be scented long after spring has gone?"

If Tokio replied, she did not do so quickly enough for Saitou to hear it, for the weariness of his overworked body at last caught up with him, and sleep claimed him for a nighttime victim.

---

Saitou Hajime was an early riser, but his late night had forced him to take an extra hour of sleep. He woke just as the sun rose and the daytime bustle of Kyoto had just begun to buzz outside. Through the walls of the inn, he could hear fish merchants calling to potential customers and the chatter of gossiping women on the streets.

Before even opening his eyes, he smelled the sakura fragrance that the servant girl Tokio wore. Yet when Saitou fully woke and gazed about the room, he saw Tokio gone and a steaming breakfast tray awaiting his attention. He could almost imagine the girl there, bowing respectfully and saying, "For your use."

He reflected on the previous night as he ate morning sashimi and drank miso soup with fresh green tea. He did not touch the bowl of rice as Saitou had a peculiar habit of never eating rice before the afternoon. Tokio was a name he did not know, but that didn't stop him from remembering her from…somewhere.

Before he could get much farther than that, an energetic rap on his doorframe accompanied a cheerful, "Saitou-kun! I have orders from Kondou-sama (6)!" In Saitou's opinion, Okita's voice was too loud for the early morning. "Dress yourself and we will go out tonight."

Whereas some men might announce a planned nighttime outing with a visit to a teahouse in mind, there was no promise of fun from a Shinsengumi captain…unless, of course, one's idea of fun was bloodshed. And sometimes, there were such men, but Saitou was not one of them.

Part of him was relieved that they would be returning to duty now. He felt most comfortable when he was of use. However, another part of him – the part that knew he needed rest – argued against hitting the Kyoto alleys. Saitou ignored that part, as he often did.

During the day, Saitou sharpened his katana and discussed plans with Okita; where they would send how many men, which members of the Shogunate were present in Kyoto, whom needed how much protection.

"The daimyo (7) of Edo, Matsudaira Hiroshi-sama," Okita said later when they sat in the garden, "is staying at the Tawaraya Inn halfway across town. He returns to Edo tomorrow, which leads me to believe that tonight he shall be targeted. And since Matsudaira-sama is the most guarded man in Kyoto right now…" Okita smiled directly at Saitou. "This is the only chance that the hitokiri Battousai has to slay him for the Ishin-Shishi."

"And you suppose I will meet him tonight during our rounds?" supplied Saitou when Okita said nothing further.

"Ah, I do indeed know better than to suppose anything in my condition, Saitou-kun. Kyoto is much like a massive game these days, with both the Shogunate and the Ishin-Shishi so desperate as this war draws to an end. Both sides are in a hurry to win." Shaking his head, Okita sipped from a cup of cool water. Glancing at the sky, he added, "But I do wish the day was shorter. Fortunately our work is done after the moon rises. It is certainly too hot for killing right now!"

Saitou did not reply, but he stood up and prepared to go in.

Okita laughed. "What's wrong, Saitou-kun? Did you not like the girl I paid for last night? Do let me know, I thought about trying her myself."

"You should not touch her." Saitou heard himself say the words before he had realized he'd thought them. "Okita…don't."

"Oh? Why not?"

Saitou wondered why not. "I've found use of her," he said when he could think of nothing else. She is much quieter than the other chirping girls in this ryokan."

Okita grinned. "Is that all? Perhaps the heat has gotten to your head, Saitou-kun. You're almost conversational today. But don't worry. I'm trusting that tonight the blood of the Battousai will cool you down." He held up his cup of water. "To quiet girls, right? Haha!" He had a long laugh that eventually turned into a coughing fit. Afterward, he said nothing and Saitou left him sitting by the small garden pond.

At the prospect of fighting again tonight, Saitou felt a return of normalcy. He eagerly awaited nightfall in hopes that order would return where the woman Tokio had scattered it.

End of Part One.

**To be continued in Part Two**_: Sakura Memory._

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Feedback is always appreciated!

Translations

1) Kashitaro Ito: The Shinsengumi's military advisor.

2) Nagakura Shinpachi: Captain of the Shinsengumi's Second Division.

3) _Ryokan_: Traditional Japanese hotel. They are known for their efficiency.

4) _Okami_: Manager at a _ryokan_

5) _Sakura_: Cherry blossoms or cherry trees. The blossoms of the tree are a beautiful color of pink or white but the spring petals fall very quickly to be replaced by green leaves of summer.

6) Kondou Isami: The Commander of the Shinsengumi.

7) _Daimyo_: Feudal rulers during the Edo period.


	2. Sakura Memory

A/N: Part two of two. I definitely took my chances with this ending, and it's up in the air what the response will be. But I had fun with it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin and am making no profit from this story.

**The Spring of Summer**

Part Two: _Sakura Memory_

By Nessie

The okami left the lanterns burning at the Sumiya Inn for the Shinsengumi when they went out together to prowl Kyoto's back streets. Saitou had not seen Tokio during the day, but he knew by the sakura smell in his room that she had been the one to deliver his meals. She had fed him well, for he was energized and ready for what he considered his life.

The song of sword meeting sword and the dance of death that all great samurai performed with an unmatched fever for the battle. While that was the poetic view that some men, mainly Okita, preferred, Saitou did not share in the feeling of art surrounding the war. Saitou saw what he did as what it was.

Blood. Killing. The vicious way of taking life was something that the Shinsengumi was trained to do without a second thought, and the Third Division's captain did this better than most. Tonight the sky was dark and the moon was full; the evening was pregnant with impending death.

This was the Kyoto that Saitou knew, the Kyoto he was most comfortable with. Between the choice of a joyful night of calm and a night where the spirit of a man could be given to silence with a single arm movement, Saitou took the latter. There were evils in this world; he would dispose of them as he was ordered. And this night—

"I guarantee the Battousai shall be found near the Tawaraya Inn within the hour," said Okita as he and Saitou walked in the front of their men. "Most likely there is a unit or two of the Ishin-Shishi in the city as well. The imperialist forced know we are ready for them, and they will attempt to make themselves ready for _us_. Of course, it is only Battousai that we must worry about."

Saitou gave a curt nod. "I will judge him when I see him. I believe that justice will prevail tonight."

"Careful not to let down your guard, Saitou-kun. But even if you don't, his skill is great." Okita's usual smile dropped from his face. "I do not want to doubt you, Saitou-kun, but I…"

"There is nothing to doubt." Saitou's golden eyes flashed as he looked up at the moon. "I will take care of him."

Clouds breezed over the sky like cloth in the wind, and as the First and Third Divisions neared the Tawaraya Inn, the air changed. Before there had been an aura of death. Now there was an aura of destruction the likes of which only Okita had known.

"It is him," muttered Okita. He took a deep breath, fighting irritation in his lungs that might give him an attack. He turned to Saitou with a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Be prepared, Saitou."

They ordered their men to halt across the street from the Tawaraya, and only the two captains proceeded forward. Okita had said that while the Ishin-Shishi had a large force on their side, the Battousai always insisted on working alone. There was only a little chance of an ambush because though the Shinsengumi were expected, Okita Souji was known for indirect approaches; however, Okita was apparently so concerned with this imperialist samurai that he had decided to go against his grain. This meant at least one side had to be directly offensive. It never worked when both groups tried to surprise each other.

The Tawaraya was still lit, and despite the late hour, several guests were just entering for the night, but Matsudaira Hiroshi was not among them. The daimyo of Edo was known for his preference of conducting business late, and it was safe to assume that he had not returned to the inn.

It made sense that Battousai would be waiting nearby. The two captains agreed to split up and search the nearby area. Okita went right and Saitou left, both drawing their katana in readiness.

A very thin mist roiled near his ankles, and Saitou peered through it, seeking out any misplaced movement. If there was a single shadow that didn't belong in the alley he currently stood in, he would find it.

He could feel a new, deadly presence making itself known half a minute before it actually did so. Okita's strangled cry of "Saitou!" fueled Saitou's feet to a marvelous speed and within seconds he was beside the shorter man.

Okita panted, sweat beading on his forehead as he pointed. "There," he rasped.

In the corner of the alley, just where a strip of lamplight bordered shadow, stood a man shrouded in darkness. Even Saitou might have missed him entirely if not for the sliver of moonlight that sliced a silver beam across eyes that seemed cut from amber. Rock-hard and gleaming, these eyes glared at Saitou and Okita. A foot above the ground, the point of a katana hung out of the blackness, and it glistened with blood.

"Your daimyo lies two alleys away." The voice was not deep but that didn't mean it was not layered with the promise of carnage. Indeed, there was a seriousness in the tenor voice that stirred something within both Shinsengumi captains. "He died with pleads in his mouth. Even if I had not killed him, I believe he would have died of shock."

Okita growled a bit even as his shoulders heaved with the effort of breathing steadily. "A descendent of the Shogun pleads to no one!"

The assassin said nothing, but the flame-like gaze turned to Saitou, telling him that he knew what was true. All businessmen who had never experienced war for themselves would beg for their lives, and Saitou would not deny this even if he did not make a comment.

"I cannot let you live," Okita told the shadowed figure lowly, "to kill another important person."

"I see. Well then." The man emerged from the darkness in one fearless step. The color of his hair matched the blood on his blade, and the cross-shaped scar on his cheek was prominent against his pale flesh. "It can't be helped."

Just as the Battousai spread his feet for a dueling stance, Okita charged. He went for the redhead's heart with the edge of his sword, but the other man blocked it with his own, never moving his legs an inch. The First Division captain's face contorted in pain, and he cried out when the Battousai flung out his arm, throwing Okita back.

Okita coughed harshly until blood from his throat spattered the dirt at his feet. When each breath turned to a moan, Saitou stepped forward.

"He can't fight you," he told the short samurai.

"I can see that." His eyes narrowed. "So you'll be my opponent?"

Saitou's answer was to set his fingers against his katana in preparation for his Gatotsu. The Battousai nodded, and then returned his own sword to its sheath.

Saitou raised an eyebrow and gave the slightest hint of a smirk as his warrior's blood raced and improved his mood. "Sheathing your sword so quickly?"

The Battousai didn't smile in return. He was not cheeky like some of the men Saitou had encountered. Instead he faced him with an honest acceptance. When he hovered his hand over the hilt of his sword, he seemed to say, _What will come will come_. "You'll soon see."

Saitou tilted his head in acknowledgement. "All right. You should be ready to die."

"So should you."

Pretense gone, they attacked together. The three thrusts of Saitou's Gatotsu might have been enough to hit him in the desired points, but the Battousai's drawing speed blocked all three stabs with the arc of his swipe.

Saitou grunted and jabbed, but with the momentum lost from his failed Gatotsu, he had left himself wide open to an upward slice from the Battousai. He swiveled around with just enough time to avoid a shaft of steel through his torso. Instead, the thrust caught his right bicep, and he felt the blood gush down to the hilt of his katana, making his hand slide along the wood.

"_He's too fast," _thought Saitou, his brain on fire as well as his right arm. Lifting his katana sent a lightning bolt from his wrist up to his head, and he growled like the wolf he was named for as he attempted a downward drop on the amber-eyed Ishin-Shishi samurai.

The Battousai merely sidestepped it, and the tip of Saitou's sword dropped to the ground as he doubled over, nearly spent. Battousai lifted his own katana with ease and held out the end toward Saitou's nose.

"I don't need to kill you here," he told him. "That wound on your arm will put you down for a while. And your partner's in no shape to fight." Sheathing his sword, he turned away from Saitou and Okita and started walking. "This war will be over soon enough, and you shall see the end of me."

Frustrated, Saitou straightened but he could not properly hold his sword. Shame washed over him like a bitter sea and made him cold. "Why!" he yelled. "I can't let you disgrace me like this!"

The Battousai froze. "You were disgraced long ago. We all were." He began away again in measured, even strides. "By the blood we've spilled."

The samurai's words seemed to echo after him, ringing through Saitou's ears as the fog thickened. All traces of the Ishin-Shishi's "hope" was gone within an instant. Okita and Saitou stood together, defeated by the joint effort of an illness and an enemy.

---

Saitou was helped in the Shinsengumi's return to the Sumiya Inn. It was degrading that another man had to hold his katana for him, but the truth was that the extra weight of the sword and sheath on his left hip unbalanced his steps. He was already dizzy from the pain and the blood loss in his arm.

Upon entering, the old okami expressed concern for him, but Saitou ignored her. She was only trying to earn a couple extra yen anyway. By the time he managed to get up to his room, Tokio was found already there. Extra lanterns had been lit for better lighting, and on the small table in the room there was a pail of boiled water and clean linen.

The vice-captain that had seen Saitou upstairs tried to enter the room, but Tokio went swiftly to the door and held out her hands. "I'll take the katana. You must go while I help him. He needs quiet and rest." This prosaic explanation either convinced or befuddled the vice-captain, but whichever it was, the man left without another word. Saitou had managed to sit on the floor near the table, and Tokio knelt beside him. She set the katana upon the lacquered wood with both hands, as carefully as if she had been carrying an infant.

"You are bleeding badly," Tokio commented lightly as she took a folded cloth from her obi, dipped it in the hot water, and rung it out. She repeated this process three times before turning to Saitou. Without so much as a glance toward his face, she placed the wet cloth over his injured bicep and pressed down. Saitou tensed, and she placed her empty hand on his forearm. "You must relax. You'll only bleed more."

He did as she instructed but with difficulty. Images of the Battousai and his look of acceptance kept drifting through Saitou's mind. He had been cut deeply, both in flesh and in honor. But he found he could not completely focus on his disgrace because Tokio's hands kept fluttering over his skin, cleaning away blood and distracting him.

"Saitou-san," murmured Tokio, "this will not heal by itself. The cut is too wide."

He watched as she stood and turned to the wall while she reached into her obi again, pulling out a small needle and some black thread. He had no idea why she might have had such things on her person until Saitou looked at the now-bloodstained handkerchief she had left on the table. There was needlework begun along one of the edges. She had apparently been working on personalizing her handkerchief before he had come in bleeding everywhere. _Taka_, it read. So that was her name.

He frowned. Taka Tokio rang no bells. And still, the way she angled her head as she decided where to start stitching him up was something he had seen before. He could _feel _that.

The needle pierced his skin, and he felt nothing. All at once, Saitou was consumed by the matter of why this girl was familiar to him. There was power in the answer. Confused by his thoughts, he asked her grimly, "Do you often stitch the wounds of injured samurai?"

"No. But where I come from, children are taught basic medical practices." She pushed in the thread and pulled it out with her usual steady grace. Saitou suddenly couldn't stop watching how calmness gave way to concentration as she worked. "Many doctors here in Kyoto and in Edo are from there."

"Doctors?"

"Yes." She fell silent as she finished, and her stitches were both straight and small. Saitou could tell without any expertise that he would have only a thin, long scar once the wound eventually healed. He sat still while she took the strips of white linen and bandaged his arm. After tying it all together at the crook of his elbow, she finally looked up and met his eyes, seeking approval. She was surprised to see his eyes already on her. "Saitou-sama?"

His expression hadn't changed when gold met indigo. "San," he corrected her quietly. He felt her small, pale hand start to lightly tremble from its place on his arm.

She lowered her head. "San," she murmured obediently. She moved away from him and put her hands next to each other on the floor, preparing to bow. Before she could bend, Saitou lifted his left hand (the hand that wasn't connected to a hurt arm) and raised her face to him again with his fingers at her temple.

"Why do you always look away from me?" He asked the question not with irritation but with simple puzzlement. Tokio formed no reply until Saitou furthered, "Am I so fearsome to you?"

"No." She answered so swiftly that Saitou almost missed hearing it. Her purple-blue eyes once again gazed into his with the truest purity this Wolf of Mibu had found in a very long time. She continued, speaking so softly, "Many people could not survive without you. And you are, after all, mortal."

Saitou blinked once, then drew his hand away from her face. Moving to his feet, he turned away from her. Both hands clenched at his sides.

"Forgive me," Tokio said. "I hope I did not insult you."

Saitou slowly shook his head. A smirk settled onto his lips and he exhaled. "It simply has been a while since I have been reminded of my mortality. Even this—" He held out his left arm. "—did not make me think of it."

Tokio stared at her hands in her lap and said nothing.

"Curiously," added Saitou, his eyebrows lowering as he turned his head toward her, "you've made me almost talkative. Is that part of your basic medical practice?"

He looked at her when she made a foreign sound and saw that she had put her closed hand to her mouth. She had chuckled, Saitou realized. And now she was even smiling, something he hadn't anticipated.

"Do you think so badly of Aizu?" she asked at last.

He faced her fully, a little stunned by this new information. "Aizu?"

Nodding, she stood up. "Aizu is known for its sakura trees and its medical training. The Takani family is the one family that still operates in Aizu alone."

Saitou was fascinated, but the interest was in her rather than the words she spoke. He had never thought she might speak so much to him. Then again, he'd never suspected he might ever say more than a handful of words to her.

But even as he thought this, neither one said anything more. Tokio realized that the conversation had ended, and she bowed slightly. She began cleaning the table of his room, gathering the bloodied bandages and rinsing her hands in the leftover water. Saitou suddenly found he didn't like seeing her pick up after him and reached forward. "I shall—"

"Please—" she began, but Saitou took her wrist and pulled her upward until she was gaze for gaze with him once more. Their proximity had gotten significantly close, and Tokio took a slow, deep breath. "Saitou-san…" She braced a hand on his arm.

Years later, Saitou would still not know what had driven him to kiss her. He did not know if it was in response to her gentleness or the way she looked at him with her unique eyes or if he had simply been needing contact. The point was that he did kiss her, and Tokio responded slowly but surely. The hand on his arm slid up to his back, and it was all the invite he needed to take her by the waist and pull her against him.

Taking the chopsticks out of her hair, he felt the black silk with its gold brush over his fingers. She dropped her head back and he sealed his lips to her neck as he set his hand on her cheek. She had some spark in her, for Tokio grabbed that hand and pressed a kiss to the center of his palm.

Electricity went through them both, and when Saitou felt her shudder against him, he took her hands and led her toward his futon. Saitou Hajime was not prone to unplanned actions, but he would not regret this one.

---

This morning when Saitou woke, Tokio was still beside him. It was just before dawn and all but one of the lanterns had gone out during the night. In the dark, he watched Tokio breathe slowly, peaceful in sleep. Her delicate hands gripped the comforter at her chin and he peered beyond her into the dark of the room.

His mind returned to the Battousai. It was the first person that Saitou had encountered in the Ishin-Shishi that had not been bested by Saitou at some point in a fight. He had a goal now: to defeat the Battousai.

"Saitou-san?"

Glancing down, Saitou saw Tokio's bright eyes, and she smiled at him. "I want to show you something." Rolling over, she stood from the futon and pulled on the yukata he had worn the previous night; her kimono would take much longer to don. Saitou got up as well and donned his Shinsengumi uniform, involuntarily amused by how big the yukata was on her.

She picked up something from the table and held it up in what available lantern light they had. Several, bright strands of vibrant red hair gleamed from her hand. "You touched him," she explained. She seemed somehow knowing of his mind, for she said, "That means he's mortal too."

She passed the small hairs to him, but instead of inspecting them, Saitou stared at her for several moments. "You are a very surprising woman, Taka Tokio."

Tokio gave him a puzzled look. "Taka…? Oh!" Suddenly understanding, she repeated the modest action from the previous night and laughed behind her hand. "Saitou-san…my name is Takagi. Takagi Tokio of Aizu."

And with those four words, Saitou's memory pinpointed an ordinary spring day from four years ago. It was a day that he did not consider especially important to him, and yet one part of him had never forgotten it. It was the day that he had met Tokio.

_Aizu in early May was a sight that many had crossed Japan in order to see. But that was before the war, and the only people in Aizu this May were either locals or participants in the fight between the Shogunate and the Empire. _

_Saitou had never been to Aizu in his life, and perhaps he never would have gone there if the Shinsengumi did not bring him. While some soldiers in the Shinsengumi did use some time to notice the sakura trees that now flourished, Saitou himself was not one of them. The comforting tints of pinks and whites did nothing to sooth him, as it was said that they could, and instead he felt ever the more restless because of them. As the bright petals fell always to the earth, so did Saitou long for the sensation of letting his sword fall upon his enemies._

_He was new to the rank of captain, having been appointed less than a month ago, and so Kondou Isami had advised that he go to Aizu with Second Division Cqptain Nagakura Shinpachi and get his footing. Nagakura had so far done well to instruct Saitou in strategy skill and the focus required for fighting properly in battle, but he had failed when it came to teaching Saitou Hajime how and when to relax. (Yet Nagakura did not think of this as a failure because he was very convinced that no one could teach the stern samurai such a thing.)_

_It was in the middle of May when Saitou was ordered to take a break from training due to a sprain found in his right shoulder. At first Saitou made a protest and insisted that spring, with its moderate temperatures and lengthening days, was the best time to train. He was denied, and Nagakura put him in a local house rather than a ryokan. "You need privacy," he had told him. "Reflect as you heal. There is no better time to examine yourself than while you are injured."_

_The influential Aizu clans that the Shinsengumi protected were always more than happy to assist the samurai in any way that they could, and this was doubly true in the case of Takagi Kojurou. As one of the most powerful men in Aizu, if not the one with the highest authority, Takagi was in deep debt of the Shinsengumi. Two men had already been seriously wounded to prevent harm coming to him, and another had died. Saitou was welcomed into his house with open arms and deep bows. _

_Thankfully, Takagi understood that Saitou was not there for fun, and he left the samurai to his own business. Saitou kept up with Shinsengumi business by word of mouth from other members posted at the Takagi house, but he stayed mostly in solitude. Meals were delivered to his room, and every day a doctor of the Takani family visited him to check on his shoulder. _

_One day during his unwanted break from duty, Takagi Kojurou invited Saitou to roam the garden at his will. Tired of the familiar sight of his room, Saitou accepted the offer and went out behind the house. What Takagi had called **a** garden was really several expansive gardens connected by stone paths that curved between foliage and wooden bridges that arched over little streams. Interestingly-trimmed bushes and unique flowers overflowed into marble fountains and religious statues, but the center attraction of the Takagi gardens were the dozens of sakura trees that dripped blossoms over everything else._

_His sandaled feet made small _patter _noises against the stone pathways and birds that had alighted upon the beautiful trees' branches now flew away at his approach. Though he may not usually have noticed it, Saitou's extensive meditation as of late forced him to realize how fully alive this place was. Wildlife dwelled in a place maintained by humans; it was a collaboration of two species that would never understand each other. He couldn't help but appreciate the thought behind such an unnecessary expense such as the upkeep of these gardens. _

_Saitou had walked through nearly all of the gardens and acknowledged its many small shrines, and as the sun was setting he considered returning to his room to await his evening meal before he began his nighttime meditation. But as he was turning, the sun caught something that reflected brightly the light cast upon it, and he halted mid-pivot. _

_The sun had burst against the smooth side of a gleaming pearl. However, it was not the pearl that ultimately dragged Saitou's attention away from his previous thoughts. Connected to the pearl was a decorative stick that hung out of a knot of jet black hair that appeared in the sun to be oddly streaked with gold. Saitou told himself it was a trick of the light and instead put his eyes on the girl who wore the ornament in her hair. _

_She was a slim, tall figure in a kimono of gentle lavender. The pattern was simple enough, with only a few traces of lilacs springing up from the hem, but it did its job of forcing a person's focus on the body the kimono adorned. While not curvaceous, the girl he sat was delicately formed, and she currently stood in a pair of lacquered zori _(1) _beneath one of the mighty sakura trees. One arm, pale and slender, reached out as long fingers carefully held a swaying rope of green that was lined with cherry blossoms._

_Having felt his eyes on her, the girl turned her face upward in a surprised movement. The sun that glared behind her blinded Saitou with its light, and he was prevented him from seeing her face before she hung her head and kneeled on the stones at their feet. She gave Saitou a low and graceful bow, saying nothing._

_Still uncomfortable being shown so much servitude, Saitou's voice was gruff as he said, "You've no reason to bow to me here." Once she had risen again, he continued. "Do you live here?"_

"_Yes." Her voice was no louder than the spring breeze that wound through the branches above them, and he took a step toward her to better his hearing, but still Saitou could not see her face._

"_Are you of the house?"_

"_I am the eldest daughter of Takagi Kojurou," she explained. "I am inspecting the garden for my mother."_

_Saitou did not much care to have a conversation, but it was only right that he show manners to the children of his host. Nodding, he said, "I found it to have a very refreshing view. It is the best garden I've seen."_

_Saitou didn't really know if that last bit of praise was true. If nothing else, it was the first garden he had ever paid attention to. The girl seemed pleased by his words as she bowed again, this time at the waist. "Thank you, Saitou-sama."_

_Not surprised that this Takagi daughter knew his name, Saitou felt not at all compelled to know her name as well, and instead he turned away and began to walk down the path again. "Give your father my gratitude," he told her expressionlessly. "Aizu is a place worth protecting."_

_He did not look back at the girl, and Saitou did not see her again throughout the remainder of his stay at the Takagi house. It was not long before she left his mind completely, and he surrendered his entire consciousness to the responsibility of being a leader in the Shinsengumi._

---

It was a day that had required no particular remembrance from Saitou, and yet he hadn't forgotten it as most would. And remembering it, he was now extremely confused as he stared at the woman before him.

"Tokio," he asked her, "for what purpose would the eldest daughter in the Takagi family be working as a servant in a Kyoto ryokan?"

At his words, the amusement that he been on Tokio's face prior to Saitou's recollection of their meeting now left. "For safety, Saitou-san."

"Safety?" His eyes narrowed. "Kyoto is the most unsafe place in Japan right now."

Tokio slowly shook her head, her face grave. "Not for any members of the Aizu Clan. For us, home is a dangerous place. Though my brothers are still there, Father insisted that his daughter be taken out of Aizu. My sisters were sent to Edo. It was not possible to find a place for me there, so I volunteered to work in Kyoto."

"You _volunteered_?"

At the disbelief in his tone, Tokio only nodded. "My sisters are significantly younger than my brothers and I. They are still children, but I can work. I've even been trying to spy on the Imperialists, but so far only Shogunate advocates have been staying here."

Saitou watched her carefully as he asked his next question. "And the selling of your body?"

Rather than the shame or even anger he might have expected from her, Tokio only smiled. There was a secret on her lips, and she went to the puddle of silk that was her kimono. Reaching into the folds of her obi, she held up a small, pointed needle as long as the length from Tokio's wrist to her elbow. Meeting his eyes, she replied, "It would never have gone far."

Taking the needle from her, Saitou gave the point a sniff and a breathy chuckle escaped before he realized his own amusement. "Poison. We use this in the Shinsengumi." He shook his head. "This won't kill, but it will put someone down for a couple of days."

"I was even prepared to use it on you. But…" Twin spots of pink bloomed on her cheeks now. "I didn't have to last night."

A strange thing happened. For the majority of Saitou's young life – ever since he had taken up learning to use a sword – he had seen the world around him through the eyes of a warrior. Everything was harsh and rough. Everything was cold and cruel. But in the moment that Tokio flushed at the thought of him, in front of him, he regarded what was around him with the eyes, even the spirit, of a simple man. The world grew softer around the edges and in the center of it all was her. She was only this woman who, despite her family wealth and despite her education, was truly no different from any other woman.

But Saitou had never met anyone like her before. And he suddenly felt something inside his chest pull because he had begun to think about being separated from her.

"What will you do now?" he heard himself asking.

Tokio exhaled in a way that was half a sigh. "I must stay here still, until something important happens in Kyoto or in Aizu. I may be called back there."

"Wait for me."

She had been staring at the floor, and now her eyes flew up to his. "What?"

"Wait for me," Saitou repeated. He spoke as calmly as if he had mentioned the sun was rising. "If this war does not kill me, that means I have a destiny. My way of Aku Soku Zan may keep me alive. If it does, I would like to know that someone will remember me."

"Saitou-san…" Tokio's hands tightened together beneath the overlong sleeves of his yukata.

Saitou felt the corners of his lips turn up. "My name is Hajime." He stepped toward her. Close, he could see now that she was breathing a little faster. "I'm not asking you to do something as hasty as love me."

"But I—" She colored at the swiftness of her response. "I cannot expect you to think of me during the war. Hajime," she added, saying his name like an afterthought as she tried it on her tongue.

"I won't need to," he assured her. "All of these battles will soon be over anyway. Win or lose…"

"Yes." She said the word simply, and once she had it seemed that relief flooded her and took the tension from her body. She visibly slackened in front of him. "Yes. I shall wait."

Saitou, with his own pulse unusually less than steady as well, turned away from her to place his sheathed katana against his left hip. When he turned back, he found Tokio with a smile on her face, although it was a shy one.

"Then we've no needs for goodbyes." But he did pause as he passed her on his way to the door. "Tokio…" His expression hardened again. "I cannot make you any promises."

She said nothing at first, but at least now she did not hesitation to look him in the eyes. "You are nothing like what I expected when we met," Tokio told him plainly.

"Good. I believe in changing with the times." At last he proceeded on, and when the door was open and his back was to her, Saitou's voice came again, very softly, "Thank you."

He felt her wonder. "For what?"

Since she couldn't see him, Saitou allowed a genuine smile to cross his face for the first time since…he could not remember. Nostalgia and the feeling of experience something new filled him simultaneously, and he breathed deeply just before Saitou left Tokio there, in a place that held for him only memories of them together.

"For bringing the spring to the summer."

**Fini**

So ends this tale. Thank you to all who read. I hope you enjoyed. I had fun writing this, and if you had any fun reading it, please let me know in a review or an e-mail.

Take care,

Nessie


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